


Some Nights

by MagicMarker



Series: Figrid Drabbles and One-Shots [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Diplomacy, Eating Disorders, F/M, Fígrid February, Gen, Happy Ending, Intrusive Thoughts, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5924245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMarker/pseuds/MagicMarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard has chosen Sigrid as his official envoy to the nation of Erebor.  One giant mistake later and she's being sent home.  Is everything she's worked for ruined?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Sigrid starts out in a pretty bad place. Everything ends up OK, but please do heed the content warning in the tags.

Sigrid half-stood, half-draped herself over the ledge of the balcony the Dwarves had oh-so-thoughtfully built for her stay in Erebor. If she’d been upright and looked towards the horizon, she could have seen Dale in all its new-found splendor, and the Long Lake beyond. It was very considerate. Nearly perfect.

She wanted to vomit. In the old days she’d have stuck a finger down her throat. Now she had the option of shoving food into her mouth until she horked it all back up again instead. The chilly wind whipping her dress around her ankles did nothing to dispel her nausea. Thinking about it only made the feeling worse, so she _had_ to find some other way to deal with the twisted ball of anxiety in her gut. She couldn’t get away with anything here; the servants would notice the sick in the chamber pot and call for Oin, and she just knew that she’d never be able to talk her way out of it more than once. 

Groaning, Sigrid rolled herself up enough to prop her chin in her hands and look to the ground so far below. How long would it take to land, if she just hopped up onto the ledge and pushed off? It would be so easy. A raven flew by, cawing almost reproachfully at her on its way to deliver some message out east. She didn’t _actually_ want to jump, anyway. It was just a thought. 

Bain would kill her, at any rate, for leaving him and Tilda alone with their poor Da, who probably felt worse than she did right now. He’d sent her to Erebor as his official envoy, too frustrated by King Thorin’s letters to even think of spending an extended amount of time there in person. “You’ll be great,” he’d said. “They’ll love you,” he’d said. How poor his judgment had been.

Instead of remaining appropriately detached, she’d found herself with the most horrible unrequited crush on the golden-haired prince, and a complete ineptitude for proper procedures. Sure, she had more patience than her Da for Thorin’s gruffness, Balin’s platitudes, and Kíli’s antics, but well, a girl could only take so much. It seemed every turn she was destined to fuck something up. 

She’d blown it, of course she had. She’d been destined to ruin things from the start. The pigeon had come, and she was being sent back home. At least Da could sweep in and apologize for his daughter’s horrible behavior, clean up the mess, and they could all have a laugh about _children_ and drink to their newly ratified treaty.

Cheers.

Sigrid really should have known better than to put any sort of plait in her hair at all. She hadn’t even thought about it, she’d just been bored with the same old bun she’d worn for the past month. The baby hairs framing her face had been annoying, so she’d woven them into their own little braid around her crown, and tucked it into the larger braid down the back of her head, and well, everyone had whispered behind their hands until finally Fíli - and of course it had to be Fíli - took her aside and explained, too kindly, just what she’d unknowingly advertised.

Her stomach clenched painfully at the memory. She turned and slid her back down the half-wall until she landed on her butt with a thud. The stone was cold through her blouse, and tiny snowflakes danced on the breeze. Dark grey clouds promised a proper storm to come just in time for her journey home. She supposed she deserved it.

After a moment more of self-pity, she heard a faint voice calling her name. It was probably just a servant come to turn down her bed. Sigrid drew swirls in the small amount of snow that managed to stay frozen on the stone. It melted on her fingers.

“Lady Sigrid?” Blonde braids swung out just ahead of Fíli’s face as he peeked around the door. “What are you doing out here? And with no coat!”

“Just getting some air,” she replied dryly. “And what are you doing in my bedchambers, Prince Fíli?”

“You didn’t answer and I was just-- Oh,” he startled, recognition dawning. “Oh, oh dear, I’m so sorry. I’d forgotten how Men tend to view these kinds of things.”

Sigrid waved her hand in dismissal. “Let’s just call it even then, hm? Impropriety for impropriety. They can cancel each other out. But you _should_ go. Don’t you have dinner to eat?”

Fíli’s brow furrowed. “Aye, that’s why I came up here. To escort you down? Like I said, you didn’t answer when I knocked and so I…”

“Don’t be daft, Prince Fíli,” she snorted. “I know how gravely I insulted you, and your uncle the King. I hardly expect him to want to dine with me after all that.”

“Why would you--”

“Listen. I’m an adult, all right? I can handle the consequences of my actions. I was just going to stay here, and maybe sneak down to the kitchens later if I get the guts to do it. If not, well, it won’t be the first time I’ve gone to bed without dinner.” She looked back down at the ground and started doodling in the snow again, gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering. “It’s fine.”

Fíli frowned, crossed the balcony and knelt beside her. “You took your hair down.”

Of course she did. She’d left the council room as calmly as she could manage, but tore her fingers through her braids the second she’d gotten out of sight. Now her hair tumbled around her shoulders, all wavy and kinked because she’d done her hair wet and let it dry that way. “I did. I’m no fool, I know it was unacceptable. Why else would you have me sent home?”

“What?”

“I’m leaving right away in the morning. Save you further insult. Now just let me pack in peace.” She inched away from him and made to get up, but Fíli’s hand covered hers there on the ground. Its warmth surprised her. 

“Sigrid, do you think we requested your father call you back to Dale because of the misunderstanding with the braids?”

Her muscles ached with the effort it was taking her to keep from shivering too visibly. “I can put two and two together, Prince Fíli, now will you just--”

“Oh Sig, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…”

She looked up at the nickname, and saw sadness in his eyes. “What?”

“You got the letter from Bard today. I didn’t realize that you would get it so soon. Oh, that must have felt awful!” He paused, thinking. “But didn’t you suppose that was a little fast, for a bird to get back and forth?”

Sigrid just stared at him and pulled her knees up to conserve a bit of heat. She stuck her hands between them; the fabric of her skirts was chilled but it was better than nothing.

“Sigrid…” He reached out and pulled a strand of hair away from her eyes. 

She winced. “Don’t…”

Fíli pulled his hand away and smiled sadly. “You aren’t being sent away because you accidentally declared you’d consummated your marriage to me. No one cares about that, not really.” 

“Of course they do. I’m no fool, I saw them talking.”

He chuckled. “Yes, they were talking, but not unkindly. You have to understand, Lady Sigrid, these people have been watching your every move since you took up residence here. They’ve seen how earnestly you have tried to learn our language, our culture. Everyone loves you for it. Besides, there’s not a Dwarf under this mountain who hasn’t done the exact same thing when they were a bairn just learning how to braid.”

Sigrid huffed and pulled herself away from the wall to face him. “But I’m no bairn, Fíli. I should have known better, and that’s why I’m being sent home.” 

“In fact,” Fíli continued, as if she had not said anything at all, “as soon as I saw your hair done up like that I knew I’d made the right decision.” He sat back on his heels, folding his hands in his lap. “Sigrid, I wrote your father _yesterday_ asking that he call you home. I never expected him to do it so soon.”

“Yesterday? Why? I don’t understand--” 

“Because. I can’t court an ambassador. There would be a conflict of interest.”

The knot low in her belly twisted again, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She looked at her thumbs poking out from between her knees. The nails were looking a little blue, if she were to be honest with herself, but now she had a much bigger issue to deal with. She swallowed thickly. “...Court?”

“Yes, Sigrid. I’d like to court you. I’ve very much enjoyed having you here under the mountain. More than I’d ever expected, really. I’ve loved every moment we’ve spent together. Everyone else loves you too! You’re kind and smart and beautiful and wise, and the moment you walked into the room with your hair in those braids, I so, _so_ wished that it were true.”

With every word he spoke, the tension loosened bit by bit, until it was just a thrum in her ears. The crown prince of Erebor wanted her? She wasn’t being sent away? Sigrid gaped at him, cheeks flushing despite the cold. Snowflakes whirled around them in big fluffy clumps, perching on stray hairs and melting in their eyelashes. “Are you s-serious?”

“I am,” Fíli replied simply. His eyes twinkled even in the fading light. “Lady Sigrid, will you permit me to court you? Actually, first, will you permit me to bring you inside? I’m sure you’re freezing.” He rose to his feet and held out his hands to her, smile beaming.

She let him help her to her feet, then looked down at their joined hands. He wasn’t letting go. “Yes.”

“Is that, yes you’ll let me court you? Or yes, you’ll go back inside?”

“Yes?” Her tangled mess of anxiety had transformed into a hundred butterflies. “Both?” 

Fíli laughed and led her back inside through the heavy wooden door. He heaved it shut and latched it, never letting go of her left hand. “I will be sad to see you go tomorrow.”

Sigrid used her free hand to rub her other arm briskly. Every inch of her was slightly damp from the snowfall, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “I will be sad to leave. Erebor has become like a second home to me.”

Fíli looked over at her with an expression softer than she’d ever seen. “I’m very glad to hear it,” he answered, voice hoarse.

Sigrid looked down and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, frowning to find it so wet. “Now, if it’s all right, I’d like to change for dinner so I don’t embarrass myself any further.” She paused. “Any further tonight, at any rate. That is why you came up here in the first place, isn’t it?”

Fíli cleared his throat and stepped away. “Yes of course! Of course. I’ll just--” he jerked a thumb behind him at the door. “Mahal forbid you miss your last dinner here in Erebor.”

“Oh, not the last,” she replied, opening her front door for him. “I’ll be back soon.” 

“Promise?” he asked, a hopeful smile across his lips even as she closed the door on him.

“I promise.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the fic! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


End file.
